Ode to math.

My first memory of mathematics occurs at Mary Lant Cotten's house, circa fourth grade. We had just learned long division, and it fascinated me. I remember the satisfaction that I received from solving a division problem, from double-checking it by multiplying the result by the divisor. After learning this particular form of mathematics, I spent the night at Mary Lant's house for her Groovy Girl themed birthday party. As a makeshift form of entertainment, there was a long sheet of paper taped to the wall. Her mom had provided markers for the girls with which to write. Most girls were doodling their names, with hearts around them connecting their names to those of their crushes. After creating my fair share of artwork (I have always been a grand proficient of bubble-letters), I moved onto a much more worthwhile creation... Long division. My friends scoffed and pointed, but I could not be stopped. I was doing long division on that thin, long sheet of paper hanging from Mary Lant's walls, and no one was going to persuade me to do otherwise. 

If we are going to be completely honest, that night as Mary Lant's house was the first and last time that I can recall being one hundred percent confident in my mathematical abilities. 

It was not long after this that I realized my intense dislike for math. A sort of disgust, if you will. I can distinctly remember the night when I realized that my relationship with math was, once and for all, terminated.

I was in sixth grade, and I had just received the honor of being selected for Mrs. Chastain's advanced math class. If you went to Briarwood elementary, then you understand that acceptance into this highly prestigious class is practically eternal glory. It was like winning the Triwizard Tournament. I used this new celebrity status to my advantage as much as I could. I carried myself with more pride than ever before.

However, this pride soon gave way to shame.

It was slope that did me in. I simply could not understand this concept. Rise over run meant nothing to me. y=mx+b was a jumbling of letters that might as well have been in a different language. I remember sitting on the couch in my living room with my dad, poring over countless graphs and equations. I was in tears, and my dad must have been frustrated that I could not understand this seemingly simple concept, but he, being the wonderful man that he is, continued to help me throughout the wee hours of the night.

It was all downhill from there.

Beginning with my inability to comprehend slope, my life has been a never-ending war with mathematics, and every battle since then has been a losing one. I don't need to chronicle my relationship with math year by year, but take my word for it that there was never again a time when math came naturally to me. From my disqualification from math team (still the single most embarrassing failure of my academic career), to my fiasco with Mrs. Bush (again... if you went to Briarwood, you understand, and feel my pain), to my atrocious score on my AP statistics exam, math has destroyed me, year by year.

Anyway...

All of this goes to say that, today, I took the last math test that I will ever have to take. In. My. Life. As in... forever. As in, I will never ever ever again be graded on my ability to add, subtract, divide, multiply, derive, calculate, measure, factor, simplify, or fraction.

This is a beautiful realization.

Let's hear it for the English majors. May math forever be absent in our lives.

However, if you are not fortunate enough to be forever released from math's relentless jaws, here are some math jokes to lessen your pain.

Ha.

Te amo,
Clumsy.